A Rose Without Thorns
by Ali Nowac
Summary: Before there was a throne of lies, there was a throne of madness and before there were three dragons, there was a champion and a stag who loved a wolf and while a stag is quick a dragon is fierce. And before there were family feuds and lions loving lions, there was a rebellion and a love story unknown to all. Prince Rhaegar loved his Lady Lyanna and thousands died for it...
1. Prologue

**Author's Note: Hey everyone! This is my first attempt at writing a Game of Thrones fanfiction and I'm hoping to bring new light to the untold story of Rheagar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark, as I too am curious to the truth to the mysterious theory running around. Please favorite and comment, I can't do this without the readers! Enjoy! **

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><p><strong>Prologue <strong>

Battered and bruised, Eddard Stark of Winterfell arrived in the doorway to the toppest point in the Tower of Joy, the view from the arched stone lookout would have been heaven had Ned cared enough to take a look. He could care less for the beauty of Dorne for his sister lay before him, her skin ashen and a small babe nestled in her arms, his own fair skin wet from the tears on his weakened mother's eyes. There was silence, the little boy was asleep, peace upon his smooth face. He had her nose, small like the buttons on a lord's cape.

"Ned."

His little sister's voice pulled him from his stupor. Their eyes met; hers a beautiful silver, glittering in the light of the setting sun and his a duller grey, a foreshadowing of the wisdom to fill his brain in his older years. His boots clomped as he moved to her side, settling himself slowly onto the edge of the bed, concern knitting his brow.

"Lyanna," his voice was quiet, he didn't want to wake the child - his nephew, "what-"

She shook her head, swallowing another burst of tears. "There is no time, brother," her eyes flickered the red mess staining the bed sheets, the teary silver orbs flitting back to her dear brother's face, "raise him, please." Now her eyes were on the child, yearning in her gaze, the love every mother possessed for her child raw and wild in those eyes.

Ned felt his heart clench and he took a breath to steady his emotions, his eyes closing as he turned his head away only slightly. They opened once again when a soft touch was placed on his calloused hand. Lyanna was looking at him, her gaze weak and strands of her brown hair sticking to her moist forehead.

"Promise me," she whispered, drawing a breath, leaning back against the pillows as Ned's strong arms went around her and her child. "Promise me, Ned…"

Her last breath slid through her pale lips. He knew she was gone, but he said the words anyway.

"I promise."


	2. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hello again! I apologize for the delay in this chapter. I was busy with school and all of that fun stuff and I'd wanted to wait to write this chapter until I'd had a good long look at the Wiki pages so I was sure I'd gotten things right. A few things may be off, and I hope that all of you can forgive me that. Again, I'm very sorry if the characters aren't how they seemed to you, this is really my first time really diving into these characters as the chapter before this was an extreme flashforward. This is the story that came before it. Sorry for any grammar or spelling issues, as I wrote this entire chapter on my phone and didn't take the time to actually proofread. Please review! I won't know if I should continue or not if you don't review. So please read, review and enjoy! Thank you. -Ali**

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><p><strong>Chapter One<strong>

_Lyanna, Winterfell's fields _

She felt wild and free, the wind whipping through her hair, casting it out behind her in a river of brown. She could feel the muscles of the steed beneath her rippling as he galloped, his power unparalleled to any in Winterfell. The sixteen year old Stark closed her eyes, throwing her head into the wind, a grin on her lips.

She could go on like this forever, without a care in the world. It wouldn't bother her, in fact she relished in being able just to ride into the wind and forget what problems she had. One wasn't so much a problem but a something that worried her probably more than it should have. Looming on the horizon was her arranged marriage to Robert Baratheon, one her brother's finest friends in all of Westeros.

He loved her dearly, she knew. She could see it in his eyes, the satisfaction at the womanly curves of her body; hear it in his laugh, the genuine happiness in that deep sound. She knew how highly he spoke of her. Though she rode like a man and was wild and unlikely to be tamed, Robert Baratheon was in love with her and that made her little heart soar. Who could ask for more devotion in a man than Robert had for her?

Though, Lyanna Stark feared that marriage would tamper her soul. She feared that children would smother her freedom. She didn't want to be a queen, who would putter aimlessly around the castle. She wanted to be a warrior; riding gallantly astride a mighty stallion. Though, she hopes Robert would not expect much queenly behavior of her. After all, they had none each other for quite some while now and if he thought she would change! Oh, the thought was laughable! Lyanna Stark was wild. Not even iron chains and a dark pit could extinguish the fire in her soul.

But she was still afraid. She would never admit it but, Lya feared that love would leave her broken and heartless. She knew the stories of men and women left broken hearted when their love's lost to the blade or fell out of love with their significant other. Lya feared she would be tossed aside after giving away all she had for love.

For now though, Lyanna Stark was content to push away her fears and laugh into the wind. Though, one's problems and fears have away of creeping up when they least expect it...

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><p><em>Rhaegar, a small village outside King's Landing<em>

"All I require is just a moment of your time. I daresay you can put that bloody book down for just a moment." The voice was wracked with concealed annoyance despite the words being a friendly jest, though the regal prince barely heard him, eyes flickering across the pages of the tale before him.

Seventeen and just barely knighted, Prince Rhaegar Targaryen was nothing short of beautiful. A mane of silvery hair fell across his shoulders that shown like dragon scales when touched by the sun's fiery lips. His dark violet eyes were narrowed with the upmost concentration, all of his senses trained on the book before him rather than the friend at his side.

The two were a sight to behold. The Silver Prince with bookish sensibilities and a dislike for the clashing of sword blades with a lowly peasant child who possessed an eagerness to learn and a dream big enough to keep the world afloat.

At last, the older stretched out his legs and carefully closed the book. A few blinks cleared the lingering effect of the story though he wished to hang onto the peacefulness the tale bestowed upon him. He would return to it later. He set the book beside the tree he'd been leaning against and rose, his clothes rumpled. "You wanted something?" The prince inquired, almost playfully, at last turning his dark eyes to Nik.

The other crossed his arms, brows furrowed beneath an unruly mop of dark hair. "You promised," he said, "that you'd teach me how to fight."

The prince pondered on the younger's words for a moment, looking thoughtful. "I did," he nodded slowly, "didnt I?" A crooked half smile curved his lips but it didnt quite meet his eyes which remained neutral and solemn as he moved towards his horse, pulling two wooden practice blades from the saddle bag. He walked back to the young civilian and handed him the sword. "I did promise."

Patient and helpful as always, the skilled swordsman tutored the smaller child the ways of a warrior long after the sun had risen to it's highest point. Never did the little dragon raise his voice or scold, he merely offered words of praise and points of revision. When at last the training was over, Rhaegar ruffled Nik's unruly brown hair and promised him he'd be a famous warrior one day.

The small peasant boy believed the prince, because what ten year old doesn't believe their hero?

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><p><em>Eddard, his chambers at Winterfell <em>

"His love for me will not stop him from being unfaithful, dear brother," she said, a sad gleam in her eye as she turned from the window.

Eddard Stark sighed. "Lya," he began, desperate to put a stop to such thoughts. Though, he never got further than that for she shook her head and interrupted:

"His love is true, but even a love as deep as that cannot quell old habits. I wish to see him happy, Ned, truly I do but, I cannot pledge my heart to man who will not pledge me his." A sigh burdened her slim shoulders, heavy with duty.

Ned rose from his sitting position and placed his strong hands on his little sister's shoulders. "Robert is a decent man, Lya. I cannot promise that he will ever stop drinking or whoring, but I can promise you that you will have a good marriage." He hoped with everything he had, as he embraced his sister, that those words would be true. After all, he wanted only the best for the silver eyed Stark girl in his arms.


	3. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hello again my lovely readers! I once again apologize for the long wait. I wanted to do as much research as I could before writing this section because of a few new characters and the appearance of a dream. I know, like any GoT fan, that dreams are very significant in Westeros and I wanted to symbolize what I could within that dream. I'm sure anyone who knows this story will understand instantly what this dream symbolizes, and I hope I did the GoT dreamworld some justice. Again, there are a few new characters such as Rickard Stark, and Elia and Oberyn Martell. I was very weary to introduce the later two because I was so unsteady with their characters. I sincerely hope that I captured them well. If not, please tell me and give me a few points on how I can improve as this is obviously hinting to their further involvement to the plot. Leading off that, I hope that I'm continuing to write Lyanna as she should be. **

**As always, I do not own _A Game of Thrones_ or the characters within it. They belong to George R.R. Martin.**

**Thank you all for you continued support! I look forward to new reviews (please everybody! I want to know your thoughts!) and new readers. Without further ado, I give you chapter two of A Rose Without Thorns. **

**A/N 2: I apologize. Something went wrong when I uploaded that. I just want to say, that I would like to get at least _five _reviews until I post the next chapter. I really want to know what you guys think of this. **

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><p><em>Lyanna, Winterfell keep<em>

Rickard Stark was not a small man. He was well built with strong, stone-like muscle. His chest was broad and his arms were just the same. The Lady Maelyna Stark was small beside her husband; in comparison with her fair black hair, Rickard's unruly brown hair was a beast. Her silvery blue eyes were comforting and gentle while his dark eyes were unreadable and firm. Had Lyanna not known her father as long as she had, she would have been terrified of his beastly appearance. But there was no fear of the large male, who had held her as a child, before her.

"Lyanna," he greeted as she slipped into the keep. "The guards said you were riding this morning." There wasn't an accusation in his words, nor were the words a question. It was a statement; though she nodded faintly to confirm that statement. He sighed, and she could hear the exhaustion in it. "Lyanna, you can't keep running away. When you're married-"

"I don't want to marry Lord Baratheon, father," Lyanna spoke up, looking up at her parents. "I want to marry for love, like you promised us we would." She didn't like where this was heading. She'd been meaning to speak them about the brothel for as long as she could remember, but after her talk with Ned, she'd been reluctant, desperate to try and be a lady for once. It had only lasted so long before the thought simply nauseated her. She couldn't imagine giving herself to him willingly after knowing that the very next night - or the same perhaps - he would be off with some nameless woman.

Rickard pinched the bridge of his nose. He would have her know that he had promised no such thing, a private look being thrown towards his wife. When had she gotten that idea into their children's heads? "Lya, Robert Baratheon is a valuable ally, one that we could use in the future. To bind this alliance, it's only fitting that we marry you to him. He is a powerful man, my daughter, and he would treat you well."

"He's infatuated with me, father," complained Lyanna stubbornly, shifting her weight and crossing her arms, her narrowed eyes upon her father.

"Lya, dear, please…" Maelyna attempted to calm the storm before it broke. "This is your duty as a Stark of Winterfell. Promise or no promise, you may learn to one day love Robert."

Lyanna's lips twisted in doubt. She knew that the two before her had married because they fell in love. But her father had never wandered out of the castle to bed another woman. She had no doubt Robert's nights would be spent in a tavern in the village.

Maelyna rose and moved to her daughter's side, pale blue-grey dress brushing around her feet, tilting the young warrior's head up. "Dearest, promise me you will?" The lady's eyes were earnest, a small smile on her lips.

The fight slowly bled out of the young Stark and she gave a reluctant nod. "Yes, mother." She was sent to ready for dinner with a kiss on the forehead and a forlorn expression.

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><p><em>Elia, her chambers at Dorne<em>

A small moan slid through her lips as she twisted, her body thrashing in her bed. The covers were slick with her sweat, her hair matted and unruly beneath her fevered head. Once again, she was bedridden and in ill health, but it wasn't the sickness that plagued her sleep, it was a dream. A very awful dream…

_Blood was splashed across the walls, as if someone had been painting with it. The air was silent, but she knew there was movement somewhere within the room. Her body was numb and she couldn't understand why. For once in her life, Elia Martell didn't feel fevered or weak._

_She felt free._

_Moving further through the maze of a room, she felt herself shiver. Suddenly it had grown very cold and Elia folded her arms around her, rubbing across her skin, her dark eyes taking everything in, glancing behind her. She wondered then if she should turn back. She didn't want to see what else was in store for her here, but her feet wouldn't obey and with a dreadful heart, she continued on forward._

_Finally, she arrived at the mouth of the maze and she had full view of the bloodied room. A gasp torn itself from her lips, though she'd meant to scream. She slammed a hand over her mouth, her knees beginning to shake. Before her, was a large silver dragon clad in armor made of rubies. Like droplets of blood, the rubies littered the floor around her, shining despite the absence of a sun._

_The dragon wasn't moving._

_It took her a moment to realize it, though when she did something within her relaxed and at the same time something splintered. It was a beautiful dragon; though she had nothing to compare it to as she had never seen a beast such as this in person; only in the books. She swallowed and tore her vision from the dragon. Behind it there was a large tapestry and it took her a moment to realize that it was a tapestry of a sun. A sun with a spear thrust through the center. Her feet at last obeyed and she took a step back._

_It was slashed to pieces and covered in blood._

_This time she did scream, because when she looked down at herself, she too was covered in blood. Her shriek mingling with another otherworldly sound: the pained howling of a wolf._

"Elia!?"

She was still screaming, thrashing around in her bed. Though, a firm grip against her shoulders pulled her out. She fought the hands, her eyes wide and unseeing. Strong hands held her arms together and a voice finally penetrated her memories. She wasn't sure what was said, but finally she recognized the voice. Oberyn. She wondered how she could have ever mistaken his youthful face, viper eyes and dark hair for any other soul.

She stopped her struggling and he released her arms as her eyes focused on his concerned ones. He murmured her name, his eyes flickering across hers. She fell against him, closing her eyes and letting her tears soak into his tunic.

He had returned from the Free Cities for only a short period of time and a small part of Elia felt horrible that she was ill on his visit home. Though, she felt even worse that this had happened. She hadn't meant to disturb him, but the dream had terrified her. She didn't even want to think about it as her brother held her in his arms, a hand moving slowly up and down her back in attempt to console her.

Elia sniffled a bit and leaned back, running a hand through her disheveled hair. Behind Oberyn was Ashara Dayne, her dark hair in braids and her haunting violet eyes darkened with worry. The Dornish princess was even more conscious of how awful she must have looked in comparison to her lady-in-waiting. She swallowed and pushed the thought away, returning her gaze to her brother, who was still watching her with worry.

"It was awful…." She murmured, her words hitching and her eyes watering.

Oberyn brushed away a few stray tears. "Whatever it was would have to get past the greatest swordsman in all of Westeros before harming you," he replied easily with a somewhat vainful grin and a promising wink, which earned a little giggle from the Dornish girl.

She wiped at her eyes and carefully picked her way through her dream. He listened patiently, offering playful jests and easy smirks whenever she paused and couldn't speak past another torrent of tears. When she was done, her brother shrugged a bit. "Us Martells aren't that easy to destroy, sister. I do not believe our little bookish princeling will be dying any time soon. You do not need to worry." He offered a quick smile.

Though, Elia Martell could not keep her mind off the dream as the day progressed, her room, her bed, her brother and Ashara Dayne the only sights she saw. Though, like everyone else in the Seven Kingdoms, Elia knew dreams were often riddles of the future…


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